


i’m still a little bit yours

by swancharmings



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swancharmings/pseuds/swancharmings
Summary: Set post-5x04. Donna and Harvey adjust. (Or, the intercom blues.)
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	i’m still a little bit yours

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by Kristen: “A fic where, after Intent and he hires Gretchen, Harvey accidentally keeps calling for Donna on the intercom instead of Gretchen.”
> 
> Unbeta’d, I apologize for any mistakes! Timeline is anywhere between 5x05 and 5x07 - assume the file room encounter in 5x07 is Gretchen & Donna’s second meeting.

“You really did a number on that poor boy, Red.”

Donna swivels away from the kitchenette, heart lodged in her throat.

“Who?” She asks, feigning nonchalance, though she’s not sure who she’s trying to fool — Gretchen, or herself.

The look the older woman gives her speaks volumes.

Donna chooses to focus on the steaming coffee currently invading her nostrils instead of her burning curiosity about Harvey’s new routine.

“Called for you instead of me three times today. And I’m not you,” Gretchen deadpans, eyeing Donna up and down.

Donna takes a deep breath, swirling the black liquid twice before tossing the stick in the trash with forced finesse.

“Give him time,” she says airily. Then, lower: “Harvey  _ hates  _ change. I swear, it took him a  _ month  _ to get used to —“

She falters at Gretchen’s palpable disbelief.

“Honey, that’s not why.”

Swallowing, Donna forces back the bitter taste in her mouth, and it’s not from the coffee.

“Look, I don’t know what happened. All I’m saying is: he misses you out there.” Gretchen pats her shoulder sympathetically while reaching for a mug. The motion grates on her, because this woman has  _ no idea  _ what she’s been through.

And yet. Donna’s forced to admit that maybe, possibly,  _ she  _ has no idea what  _ Harvey’s _ been through. And damn her if she still cares more than she should.

“Just thought you should know.”

———

Harvey’s office looks the same as ever. Balls to the wall, late afternoon sun dancing on the floor, pen twirling between his thumb and forefinger.

_ Printing. For Louis. And that god-awful, smarmy snake at Ghenton Electronics. That’s why you’re here. _

It’s a pathetic excuse, with Gretchen’s words still ringing in her ears, but the printer whirs to life under her capable hands and Donna believes it.

There’s a rustle of papers from ten feet away, followed by a sigh and the unmistakeable  _ clank  _ of the Harvey Specter trash can lay-up. It’s as if he’s sitting right there, with that scowl and the twitch of his jaw that tells her he’s reached his breaking point, and maybe he should grab a coffee or walk the block.

Her pointer finger seeks the intercom button on instinct; she stops herself before it’s too late, clamming up and her bones itch to fix, soothe, assuage and replace that harrowed look with the grin he saves for her.

The intercom blinks and buzzes. Harvey’s voice barks at  _ not-her _ .

“Donna, I need —  _ fuck! _ ”

She freezes. And waits.

Nothing.

The Manila folder resting on Gretchen’s keyboard looks suspiciously like the one that holds the DiCarno quarterly projections — which he needs for the board presentation tomorrow. Donna snatches it without a second thought.

She walks right up to his desk, where he sits with his back to the door, fists clenched in his own grief. Briefly, she debates whether to just place it on his laptop and leave or to smack him upside the head with it.

In the end, she slides it gingerly across the metal surface, tapping the corner on his arm and he turns around abruptly.

He’s clearly shocked to see her, to the point where words fail him — yet again — so Donna prods.

“I think ‘thank you’ is what you’re looking for.”

That earns her a smirk.

“You have supersonic hearing now?”

“And eyes in the back of my head.” She crosses them and he huffs out a laugh, stretching back in his chair.

Harvey nods at her pointedly, though a slight reservation colors the movement. “Thank you, Donna.”

She smiles, tilting her head in invitation. “Anything else?”

After all, it is the second time she’s heard  _ thank you  _ in the span of a week.

“You don’t...” Harvey pauses, white-knuckling his pen. “You don’t work for me, anymore.”

It’s as if the words were pried deep from his soul, and now that they’re out he can’t bear the separation. It makes her heart stutter again, bang against her lungs, because even if this is the best thing for her, for them, right now — it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

Her entire body softens while her soul searches to heal his. “Harvey... you can still ask me for help.”

“But —“

“Okay, well, you can’t ask me for help  _ all the time. _ But when you need me...” she trails off here, tapping the folder, hoping it says enough.

Maybe she can’t find the words, either.

“I’m here.”

She looks him dead in the eye and his apprehension transports her back to that first day off his desk, to the harsh words they exchanged that only aided in cracking the foundation.

It’s not fair to dangle it in front of him again when the last time he asked, she ripped it away. So she steels herself, rips off the Harvey-sized band-aid she’s worn since  _ that night  _ and gives him the honesty she craves.

“I mean that. Because two adults who care about each other find a way to make it work. And I want to make this work, Harvey.”

She nods, leaving him to ruminate on that.

If she expects him to crack open his shell, she’d better start shucking too.


End file.
